


December, 1936

by buckbeakbabie



Series: Still My Heart Has Wings [2]
Category: Upstairs Downstairs (2011)
Genre: 1930s, Angst, Babies, Fluff, Multi, OT3, abdication, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:02:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckbeakbabie/pseuds/buckbeakbabie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The Holland's cosy house in Eaton Place would a refuge from all that had happened in the last few weeks. All would be well for a brief time, just as soon as he stepped through that door.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>After his oldest brother's abdication changes George's family forever he turns to his second family for comfort. Set post 1.03: The Cuckoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	December, 1936

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, if you see any mistakes feel free to point them out.

Hallam dearly wished he could reach out to George through the telephone and wrap him in his arms. The sound of his sobs tore at him. He could never have imagined before tonight that he would hear George cry. The man hadn't even cried after his father had died, as far as Hallam could tell. Not that George had been very much closer to his father than Hallam ever had been to his own, of course. Hallam only wished there was something he could _do_. He wasn't even sure whether or not he should tell George about the baby. In the end he decided that much like the day they had confessed all to him, if this news distracted George for only a second it would be worth it. 

He cleared his throat. "But that wasn't the only news tonight," he said. He could hear George take a deep breath and sniff slightly. 

"No?" he said, with what sounded to Hallam like a great deal of effort. 

"No. Hector Greville Holland arrived earlier this evening." Hallam couldn't quite keep himself from smiling.

There was a pause, but when George spoke again he sounded slightly happier. "Really? Congratulations, old chap." 

"Thank you. It all happened rather quickly, actually, while we were listening-" He cleared his throat. Best not mention that again. "Our butler delivered him in our bathroom, if you can believe that." 

George chuckled slightly. "Goodness! All is well, though?" 

"They are perfect," Hallam said proudly.

"How could either of them be anything less?" George paused again. "I say, would you mind if I popped over?" 

Hallam was surprised by this request, but didn't hesitate to reply. "Of course not, Sir. You would be very welcome." 

"I wouldn't be in the way?" George asked. "It is terribly late, I know." 

"Never, Sir. You are always welcome in our home, you know that. Besides, they were both awake last time I checked." 

"Much appreciated, old chap. I would dearly love some fresh air." 

"I will see you soon, Sir." 

"Very soon," George replied fondly.

*****

George rang the doorbell, taking a second to lean against the pillar with a tired sigh. This walk may have given him physical distance from the events of the previous week, but it wasn't quite enough to dispel the exhaustion he was feeling. It helped to know that behind this door lay the Hollands and their new addition. He did of course take comfort in Marina's presence, but she had been asleep when he arrived home. She had offered to accompany him to the plane, but in her condition she needed all the rest she could get. Which was why he couldn't bring himself to wake her. She was also involved in everything by virtue of being a member of the family. The firm, as Bertie called it. He closed his eyes tightly. The Holland's cosy house in Eaton Place would a refuge from all that had happened in the last few weeks. All would be well for a brief time, just as soon as he stepped through that door. 

George grinned widely at the butler as he stepped inside. He felt slightly better already. "Ah, if it isn't the hero of the hour." He managed quite a decent display of good humour, if he did say so himself. 

Pritchard looked slightly bashful. "I would not go that far, Your Royal Highness." 

George smirked as the man took his coat. "That is not what I heard from Sir Hallam." 

"It was nothing, sir, I assure you," Pritchard insisted. 

George turned to face him. "I am certain that Sir Hallam disagrees." 

"I do." They both turned to see Hallam descending the stairs. 

George grinned, taking a pair of cigars from his pocket and moving to the bottom of the stairs. "Congratulations, old chap." He clapped Hallam on the shoulder, holding a cigar out to him. "For the new father. And one for the saviour of the day." 

Pritchard looked surprised as he stared at the cigar in George's hand. "Sir, there is no need-"

"I absolutely insist. It is the very least you deserve." George smiled. "Take it, Pritchard." 

Pritchard glanced at Hallam, who smiled as he rolled his own cigar between his fingers. He nodded slightly. "Please, Pritchard. Allow us to show our gratitude." 

Pritchard nodded, reaching out to take it. He bowed his head. "Thank you, sir." 

George smiled. "Now, I insist on being introduced to Master Holland." Bluster was easy to fake for now, but he longed for the privacy of the Holland's bedroom and a chance to relax.

"Very well. Pritchard, you may retire." 

"I shall wait up, Sir, in case there is anything her Ladyship needs." He bowed and swept towards the servant's stairs. 

"I must say, you have the most efficient and dedicated butler I have ever seen," George remarked. He glanced at Hallam. His voice softened as he met his lover's eyes. "Take me to them?" 

Hallam led George up the stairs and to their bedroom, where George was greeted by such a display of domestic felicity that he almost doubted it's authenticity. Agnes, tired but absolutely radiant in peach silk, lay on the bed curled around a tiny bundle of blankets. It would be impossible to remain unmoved by such a sight, George was sure of it. 

"Agnes, darling," he murmured. But he didn't step further into the room, he stood back, admiring them for a moment.

"Georgie," Agnes replied softly, glancing up from the baby. "Come in." 

George smiled as he stepped forward. "I feel like I am intruding on a very picturesque scene." 

Agnes laughed softly, beckoning him closer. He slipped off his jacket as he crossed the room, carefully perching on the edge of the bed. 

"He is charming," he said, staring at the child. It was odd, really. He didn't think of this child as his son, exactly; Hallam would always be his father. It was rather like Hector was a nephew. Although he did feel slightly closer to him than he did Bertie and Mary's children (charming as they all were). Hector was part of his family - his immediate family - and he was sure he would have felt this way even if Hallam had been his natural father. 

"Isn't he?" Agnes sighed. Her eyes shone with happiness as she looked at the boy. 

"Already causing quite the stir, I believe," George remarked. 

Agnes smiled, glancing up at him. "I can't imagine where he gets that from." 

George smirked, reaching out to run a finger over Hector's cheek. He kicked off his shoes, then, and crawled carefully onto the bed to curl up beside Hector. "You don't mind, do you?" 

"Not at all." Agnes reached out to take his hand, giving it a squeeze. Behind George the bed dipped as Hallam settled behind him, pressing against his back. George sighed deeply. This was exactly what he had needed. 

He stared at Hector for several moments. "Do you know, I think he looks like David," he said softly. He would allow himself this one night, this one night to recognise what was in front of him and what had happened in the past days. Tomorrow he would move on, as he must do. 

"Do you really?" Agnes asked. "I thought he looked like Persie." She gave George's hand a squeeze. "How are you?" 

George swallowed. "Awful." He didn't have the energy to attempt to put a brave face on it. "It has been such a nightmare. Endless discussions and meetings and arguments. Now it is all over - except of course it isn't, not for the rest of us. We must carry on. But he is gone." His voice broke slightly. "And I am so desperately _sad_ , because he has always been my closest -" 

Hallam wrapped an arm around his waist as he struggled vainly to continue. He let Hallam press close, hold him tightly. Agnes had brought his hand to her lips and was pressing soft, tender kisses to his fingers. George had to take several steadying breaths before he could speak again. 

"I must not seem sad - I couldn't tell him how desperately I wished him to stay. For Bertie's sake, we must show a united front. I just don't understand how this happened, how it is possible it has come to this. It's not that I don't support Bertie, of course I do. This whole wretched thing is David's fault, and yet … I can't believe he has gone, or how much it has affected me. It isn't as if he has died, after all. I don't understand why I'm so upset." 

"He is your brother and you love him very much," Agnes said softly. "You always have, for as long as you can remember. So the fact that he is gone - even under such dreadful circumstances and for reasons you believe are terribly wrong - is unbearable. It feels rather like you have been abandoned." 

George nodded, his chin trembling. She had said exactly what he had been unable to articulate. He was utterly lost, he hadn't the faintest idea what to do without David's presence in his life. Or how to begin to forgive him, as he knew he must do. It was all so overwhelming.

"Hallam." Agnes' soft voice cut into his thoughts. She was shifting slightly, moving to take the baby into her arms. "Take him." She carefully passed Hector to his father and shifted closer to George, wrapping her arms around him and cradling him to her chest. George went willingly, nuzzling against her soft, warm skin. He inhaled deeply. Agnes smelled of milk and talc as well as the ever present Shalimar. 

And, safe in her arms, he cried.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, George's tears. Who didn't want to hug him when he was talking to Hallam? I'll leave the flailing about Blake Ritson's portrayal of him and how it changes from s1-2 and is clearly informed by all of the things you can find out about George that are never mentioned explicitly in the series, but this is just a fantastic example of that. 
> 
> I got a book called 'Abdication' by Christopher Warwick for Christmas (because writing about royalty is a Thing I Do now) and this passage really stood out: 
> 
>  
> 
> _"At midnight, Prince Edward bade farewell to his brothers, and as he bowed to the new king, the Duke of Kent shook his head in disbelief and cried out, 'It isn't possible! It isn't happening!'"_
> 
>  
> 
> Poor George, too. And every single bit of that story (true or not) is in Blake's performance. Really, really well done.


End file.
